


But You Touched Me, and Suddenly I Was a Lilac Sky

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bellatrix and Hermione as Darth Vader's Apprentices, Crossover, F/F, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hermione hates how gently Bellatrix talks to her. No one has ever talked to Hermione like that. No one has ever looked at her like that. She’s used to the blank helmets of Darth Vader and stormtroopers. Bellatrix looks at her like her eyes can change Hermione’s fate, her very life. She looks at Hermione like she has hope.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 5
Kudos: 142





	But You Touched Me, and Suddenly I Was a Lilac Sky

History is a fickle thing. It’s easily changed and erased from the records. Why would people care about history while their children are burning? History is forgotten. A tapestry of what could have been, scraped away until it’s hidden beneath layers of lies. All there is, was, and ever will be, is plastoid and death.

Anakin Skywalker is forgotten and Darth Vader is born. Hardly anyone makes the connection. After all, what’s there to connect to? No one knows who Anakin is. A war hero, a celebrity by all means, forgotten in the wake of galactic terror.

It follows that Ahsoka Tano is forgotten, Anakin’s only apprentice. However, she was not Darth Vader’s only apprentice. No, there have been many. Most of which are now dead. 

Hermione isn’t going to be one of them.

Corpses, let downs, traitors. Weak, all of them. 

That’s why she’s learned. She can’t be anything less than the best if her master and her are to overthrow Darth Sidious. 

She searches and learns. Darth Vader has her on a rigid training schedule which leaves her little time for her research. He teaches her the forms of lightsaber combat, how to fluidly move between them, how to utilize the force in combat, but he can’t teach her history. 

She understands the benefit of burying the past but she knows the past is how people learn. She’s learned from watching the fighting forms of legends passed, battles that could have ended differently, and apprentices who could have been something. Starkiller could have very well ruled the galaxy had he not faltered. 

She finds threads that shouldn’t exist, databanks that shouldn’t be be intact.

She studies Anakin’s form become more aggressive as the Clone Wars wore on, Obi-wan’s master use of Soresu, Yoda’s use of Ataru. Researching forms is how she initially stumbled across Bellatrix Black.

The sight of Bellatrix pressing Darth Vader back with wild strikes while using Juyo and Jar’Kai is burned into Hermione eyelids. 

That’s why she started practicing it. 

She noticed that Darth Vader’s most prized apprentices were all dual-wielders so she picked it up. She saw the intensity and skill that often led Bellatrix to victory and she dedicated herself to it. She didn’t stop at watching Bellatrix’s moves, she studied every Juyo and Jar’Kai user she could. She didn’t want to be a copy of Bellatrix, she wanted to be better.

Darth Vader isn’t an easily impressed master and he doesn’t show it when he is. After she dismantles an entire rebel base without getting hit, she notes he only critiques her time. She’s sure in whatever way her master approves that he approves of her switch to dual wielding. 

“You’ve handled your missions with ease.” Her head is bent in supplication, knees firmly pressed to cool the metal floor. “You’ve proven yourself worthy of a...challenging mission.”

“Thank you, master.”

“You will hunt down a former apprentice of mine. She’s made the foolish mistake of joining the rebels. Kill her and bring her lightsabers back as proof of her death. Do not fail me or you will will meet the same fate.” 

“Yes, master.” She only looks up once the heavy press of his force presence is gone. She walks to her ship, knowing Darth Vader has already sent her the coordinates for the traitor. 

“We’re setting course for Nal Hutta.” Her pilot declares as she sets foot on board. Ever since the failure that is Galen Marek, all pilots have been droids.

“Who’s the target?” A hologram of Bellatrix Black appears, her strengths and information alongside the image. She doesn’t need the information, she knows it all by heart. Her heartbeat speeds up, her hand twitches. She’s learned and studied many talented fighters but she’s never felt the same with them as she has for Bellatrix.

Admiration? Most definitely. She admires the form Bellatrix deploys, the strength and precision that she channels into a flurry of movement. The way Ahsoka, Galen, and Asajj utilized dual wielding was something masterful but the way Bellatrix uses it? It’s living art. She’s watched Bellatrix’s holos over and over, not just to learn but to watch. Perhaps it’s more than admiration, it’s something of a little obsession. 

Obsession that she’s given into, chased relentlessly. Through passion she gains strength, after all. She gives every part of herself in whatever she does. She loses herself in her missions, her kills, her service to Darth Vader. Bellatrix calls to her deepest passions, her greatest desires. She wants to be better than her, she wants to defeat her, she wants her. 

She wants to feel Bellatrix’s body strain against her own, body quivering and arms shaking from the force of her strikes. She wants to feel Bellatrix’s resolve crumble as she realizes she’s lost. She wants to feel her force presence against her own, fading to black. 

This obsession serves her, through her observations she’ll be ready for Bellatrix’s technique. She’ll have the advantage. She knows she’ll need it, Bellatrix isn’t going to be an easy fight. 

“Do you know her?” The droid watches her closely, ready to communicate everything back to Darth Vader. She doesn’t bother to learn their identifiers anymore since they get replaced so often.

“I’ve heard of her. I look forward to this.” Her lips quirk into a pleased smile, she leans forward to study the material she was sent. 

She’s glad its her. If anyone got a shot at Bellatrix, it should be her. She’s destined to end Bellatrix’s life.

She knows the importance of this assignment. Bellatrix poses a threat to Darth Vader. If the Emperor discovers the existence of a well trained apprentice who turned traitor, it will be bad. She’s protected Darth Vader by eliminating her and as such, her own life. She’s also proving her loyalty and strength. If she fails this mission, she doesn’t have a place as Darth Vader’s apprentice. 

She will win because she has no choice.

Her boots squish unpleasantly against the mud when she lands on Nal Hutta. It’s a disgusting putrid place. Of course a place so vile would gather the shadiest of criminal and a turn coat. 

“Good killing.” The droid says as she leaves.

It’s ominous that Darth Vader prepared her with a tracker. Him already knowing where to find her isn’t the most safe path for Hermione. She’s willing to bet if he knows where to find her, Bellatrix knows this.

Bellatrix isn’t living in town, she’s out in the middle of a swamp and junk. Hermione rides her speeder until the tracker starts speeding up, telling her that she’s nearby. She dismounts her speeder and takes the rest on foot, wanting as much surprise as she can get. 

The hut is small and unassuming, not something she’d think to find someone as ostentatious as Bellatrix hiding in. She’s finds a nearby tree and crawls onto the branch, waiting for Bellatrix to either enter or leave. She hopes the tree doesn’t break under her weight. They’re fragile thin things, not benefiting from the scum of Nal Hutta. 

She’s covering her nose under her outer robe, trying to escape the putrid smell of the planet, when she hears the creak.

“You shouldn’t be here, pet.” Hermione’s lightsabers are out before Bellatrix finishes her statement. The tree falls, cut in half, and the woman remains. Bellatrix had been right behind her and she didn’t even notice, she curses harshly under her breath. “Your Vader’s newest lackey, right?” Hermione twitches, wanting to strike out at her disrespect. She waits, she isn’t going to fall into a trap. She isn’t going to be short sighted.

“I’ve been sent to eliminate you.”

“Of course, we can’t have a mar on his perfect record. Can we? All dead, doesn’t that worry you?” Bellatrix stands easy, like she isn’t worried about Hermione. It rubs against Hermione’s sense of pride. Bellatrix isn’t even taking her seriously, Hermione wants her to.

“I’m better than the rest of you. Where you failed, I’ll succeed.” 

“You won’t be, you aren’t. You’re so young, you have so much more life to live. Why waste it on a master who will discard you soon? Do you think he believes you can win this fight? He’s using you, hoping you can at least weaken me. I wouldn’t be surprised if his real assassins aren’t far behind you.” 

“Underestimating me will be the last thing you do.” Hermione charges forward, careful to watch for Bellatrix’s defense. The duel begins.

Bellatrix is fighting more defensive than Hermione watched in the holos, she’s not attacking with the energy and fury she’s seen. Hermione ducks a slash, her own landing and burning across Bellatrix’s calf. “Fight me!” Hermione calls out, blood pounding for a real fight. 

She hates fighting Jedi or force users who cower from the dark side. They’re passionless, unemotional. She’s all blood and pain, desire and anger fueling every swing and pull on the force. Bellatrix is supposed to be a powerful dark side user, instead Hermione’s facing a drone. 

“I don’t wish you dead, pet. You can leave him, leave the dark side before it’s too late. You don’t need to follow this path. It took me too long to realize this, too long to break away. Don’t make my mistake.” 

“I’m not you, Bellatrix. I’m better.”

She’ll remember the foolishness of such a statement until the day her ashes spread through the cosmos. It’s their ruin, the expectation of proving oneself has destroyed many apprentices and padawans. 

Perhaps if she weren’t so arrogant, she wouldn’t have lost.

She thinks she’s stronger, faster, she thinks she knows Bellatrix better due to her studying. When she disarms one of Bellatrix’s lightsabers, she thought the duel all but sealed. 

It’s raining greasy slimy rain that’s home to Nal Hutta’s ecosystem. It’s covering them, coating their fight. Her boots are dug into the mud, their duel teetering on a cliff. A swamp of unknown depth below. 

“Don’t make me finish this.” Bellatrix says between clenched teeth. The force of their locked lightsabers causing them both to shake with exertion. Bellatrix’s violet pressing against Hemrione’s reds. 

“I’m glad it’s me.” Hermione admits, sweat drenching her robes. “I’ve watched your fights dozens of times. I think you were his best.” 

Bellatrix’s face shudders, her clenched face fading. The fight fleeing. It angers Hermione who thought she’d finally face off against the famous Death Eater. Bellatrix smiles at her but it isn’t a smile, it's a sorrowful shadow of one. “I really wish it hadn’t been you, pet.” Bellatrix says, words softer than they have any right being given the circumstances. 

Bellatrix deactivates her lightsaber and Hermione falters, unbalanced by the quick change of action. She hadn’t seen Bellatrix do anything of the like on the holos. The violet erupts quickly and while its movements are free, Bellatrix cleaves toward Hermione. 

Hermione doesn’t die. Bellatrix didn’t kill her. 

Her lightsabers falls to two pieces, broken and useless. 

“This fight is over.” Bellatrix announces, eyes watching Hermione.

“You won’t even kill me?” Hermione asks, offended.

“What purpose would that serve? I don’t want you dead.” Hermione hates how gently Bellatrix talks to her. No one has ever talked to Hermione like that. No one has ever looked at her like that. She’s used to the blank helmets of Darth Vader and stormtroopers. Bellatrix looks at her like her eyes can change Hermione’s fate, her very life. She looks at Hermione like she has hope. 

Hope is a fool's desire.

She reaches for Bellatrix’s lightsaber, which she’s clipped to her waist after disarming it, when searing pain causes her to stumble back. The familiar burn of a lightsaber sends her body aflame, her arm screaming as fierce as blasterfire. Bellatrix cut the issue off before her fingers could wrap around the handle of a stolen lightsaber. The nub where her arm once was burns bright against the dull swamp, her feet slip against the slick mud in her flinch away from Bellatrix.

She loses her balance.

“No!” Bellatrix shouts, regret painting an ugly picture for Hermione. Hermione’s falling before Bellatrix can reach out. She forgot the cliff.

She lands with a series of cracks and crunches, the semisolid mud moving to pull her to its depths. She can just see Bellatrix against the darkening sky. She’s looking down at Hermione, searching through the mud and trying to locate her. Hermione doesn’t move, she couldn’t if she wanted to. She sees the pity and anguish on Bellatrix’s face but she doesn’t have the energy to feel rage at it. She focuses on breathing and hopes Bellatrix doesn’t see her. Alas, Bellatrix leaves.

Later, when the secondary force Bellatrix taunted her with arrives, they find her. She passes out not much longer, sometime around when they started prying her severed arm from the dried mud. 

She has a few hours from when she wakes up to when she must face Darth Vader. In the end, she lies.

“I killed her, master.” Her head is bent lower than usual and she hopes he can’t hear the lies.

“They found you half dead in a swamp.”

“She got a last hit on me but I took her life. I survived our fall but she fell into the deeper mud, it ate her body. I brought back her lightsaber, just as commanded.” She offers the said lightsaber to Darth Vader. He takes it and examines it.

“So you did.” Her feet scrape against the metal floor, the sound of her boot fighting for purchase fills her ears. “I don’t tolerate liars or traitors.”

“I’m not lying, master.” She chokes out against the invisible hand.

“Very well. You have a day to fit a new arm, then you’re being sent out to deal with another rebel base.” He drops her to the floor unceremoniously. He leaves Bellatrix’s lightsaber with her. 

She uses her old lightsabers are part of her arm, luckily the troopers on sight had picked them up. Something changes, no, a lot changes.

She stops dual wielding. Darth Vader questions it but doesn’t stop her, she’s smart enough not to tell him why. She can’t get used to how it feels with the new arm, it’s just slightly off. She also hates mirroring the damned woman who took her arm. She switches stances, becoming more defensive. She further studies Soresu and learns to tighten her movements. It’s vastly different than how she’s been training for most of her apprenticeship. Gone are her showy strikes, she’s learned better. Arrogance got the better of her against Bellatrix, she wouldn’t make the same mistake. 

She searches every day for Bellatrix and finds nothing. She fears Darth Vader will discover her before Hermione. She knows what will happen if she fails. 

That’s another thing she hates. Before dueling Bellatrix, she would have been encouraged. Now? Her fear bests her. Her fear has turned to hate against her master, a resentment that blooms and grows. She doesn’t know how she used to take being choked and beat and rebuked without complaint. She finds herself swallowing her true feelings now.

Then the child happens. It’s a usual mission, eliminate the rebel outpost. Except there’s a child and for the first time in her life, she stops. The rebels still alive try and take advantage of it but she cuts them down.

Except the man guarding the child. He’s scrawny, obviously an engineer and not much of a fighter. He looks ready to fight and die for the child.

The smarter rebels stop fighting, taking note of her odd change pause.

“Have you ever killed a child, sith?” An old grizzled rebel asks her. “It haunts you, you know.”

“How would you know?” She asks him, looking into his dark eyes.

“Rebellions don’t start heroically. We do terrible things to you until you’re weak enough to be overthrown. Sometimes children pay for our sins.” She knows all about their acts of terrorism, it’s all that’s ever said about them. Terrorists that threaten the strength of the empire. Her entire life has been based on eliminating that threat.

“How do you think you’re good then?” She asks puzzled.

“There’s nothing good about it. Killing a child is unforgivable, killing anyone arguably is. My soul was the first sacrifice I made for the rebellion. It’s the rebellion that’s good, it seeks to overthrow your regime. How do you think you’re good?” 

She looks away and back at the innocent child, magenta with little horns and fussy behind the man’s back. She looks at the corpses that surround her, the blood that doesn’t spill from lightsabers. “I don’t think I am good or bad.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never thought about it.” It hits her how programmed she is, in that moment. Morality has never been a real concern to her. Being the best apprentice has been her entire life, her entire awareness.

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” She defensively replies.

“Old enough to know you shouldn’t be here.”

“Where should I be then, old man?”

“Let me ask you something, do you enjoy killing?”

“I enjoy fighting.”

“But do you enjoy killing?” He presses.

She likes having an opponent who can match her, who challenges her and matches her passion. Killing does little for her except appease Darth Vader. “No.”

“Why do you do it then? Why kill us?”

“He commands it.” She answers simply. They’re all soldiers, all tools for someone more important.

“Your master?”

“Of course.”

“If you don’t want to kill, you don’t think you’re bad, then don’t kill us. Don’t kill the child. Just...go back and lie. Tell him you killed us.” 

It’s the first time she ever stopped during a mission, why did she stop? Why did she ever start? 

“What’s your name?” She asks him.

“Talus.”

She becomes aware of the trail of bodies she’s left in her wake. It awakens something in her, a new outlet for hate.

She hates that she no longer cares about being Darth Vader’s best apprentice, about overthrowing the Emperor, even annihilating the rebels. She feels aimless, purposeless. She finds somewhere to channel it.

All she cares about is finding Bellatrix. 

She uses Bellatrix’s lightsaber for a year before it wears on her. Her previous lightsabers had no feeling to them, an empty echo that served her purpose. Bellatrix’s is resistant, she feels as if every time she touches it something in her recoils.

That’s why she searches out a new lightsaber. She should corrupt a Kyber crystal, it’s what any sith apprentice would do. 

So why doesn’t she? 

Her obsession grows out of control. Before she studied Bellatrix’s fighting, now she can’t think about anything else. A year of searching and remembering.

A year of hungering.

A year and she finds her.

It’s obvious Bellatrix is allowing herself to be found. Hermione doesn’t think Bellatrix knows she’s alive, Hermione is a secret apprentice after all. She’s trying to draw Darth Vader out, trying to force a confrontation. Hermione takes the coordinates and erases all evidence of it, not wanting to be caught.

After Darth Vader assigns her another mission, she heads the coordinates. She kills the droid pilot to be sure it doesn’t inform Darth Vader.

This time it’s rolling waterfalls and crystal clear lakes. 

Once again, Bellatrix hides in a faraway building. It’s a bungalow set on the edge of dirt, the river running by the porch. Bellatrix is there this time, sitting on the porch. Hermione has practiced hiding her presence and done countless stealth modules since their last confrontation. She’s on the porch before Bellatrix notices her.

Bellatrix looks strong, she doesn’t let herself waste away. Her lightsabers erupt to defend herself from Hermione’s attack, two slightly different purples. Her first set were like twins, matching perfectly. Now there’s an asymmetry, something is just off. Hermione’s non-organic hand twitches at that. Hermione is using Bellatrix’s lightsaber and she feels it call out for its twin.

“You lived.” A hushed murmur.

“Disappointed?” 

“Quite the opposite.” Bellatrix’s boot plants in Hermione stomach, pushing her away. “Let’s not do this again.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

“I don’t want to bury your body.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t.” 

Hermione is forced on the offensive despite her recent defensive training. If she stays on the defensive entirely, Bellatrix refuses to engage her. 

Their lightsabers collide and Hermione feels her shoulder bunch against the weight. The sizzle pops in the air between them. Bellatrix slashes as she launches into a backflip, getting her distance back.

Hermione’s had a lot of time to think since their last duel.

Their lightsabers clash once more and she flips the script, using Bellatrix’s move against her. Except, she doesn’t destroy Bellatrix’s lightsaber or take her hand.

Bellatrix arches her brow, a wild smile spreading across her lips. “What’s this, pet? I thought you were trying kill me.”

“Who said anything about killing?” Hermione throws back, matching her smile.

She finally sees the Bellatrix that she studied for years. The one with a challenge in her eyes and battle lust in the twist of her lips. Hermione isn’t here to kill Bellatrix, she’s here to fight her. There’s a difference in that. Bellatrix doesn’t have to worry about Hermione trying to kill her or killing Hermione. 

Neither pull their blows back. Their attacks are unrelenting, their kicks fierce, and the force burns alongside them. It goads them on, pushing them together. Lightning arcs between them, setting grass on fire. Bellatrix pulls her towards her, disarming her and taking her lightsaber back. 

Hermione rolls away, pulling out her own.

“Huh.” Bellatrix pauses, admiring Hermione’s new lightsaber. “Not red.”

Hermione isn’t sure how to explain that Bellatrix’s words got stuck in her head, that she’s been forced to reevaluate her own loyalties and morality. “No, not red.”

“Why yellow?” Bellatrix relaxes slightly but doesn’t switch her lightsaber off.

“I didn’t choose...I tried something different. I let the crystal choose me.”

“Are you still Vader’s?”

Hermione chokes out a laugh, lowering her own lightsaber. “Aren’t we all?”

“We don’t have to be. You don’t have to be. Join me.”

“I may not be sith but I don’t think I’d be a good jedi.”

“I’m hardly telling you to be a jedi, I’m not a jedi either. There are other options, you know.” Bellatrix’s voice sounds enticing. An offer she’s been trained to refuse. An offer she yearns to fall into.

“I’m afraid it isn’t that easy.” She launches, flying through the air to deliver a crushing blow. It starts again. Their skill is more evenly matched this time and it takes all of her training to persist. 

When she feels like she has ahold of Bellatrix’s pattern, she strikes. She slices with enough accuracy if Bellatrix doesn’t retreat she’ll lose her hands. She retreats and Hermione’s lightsaber follows.

Yellow glows against the pale length of her throat, winner obvious.

“You’ve gotten better.” Bellatrix should be afraid, at least cautious. Instead she purrs it, eyes dark and her presence in the force practically pulling Hermione towards her. 

“I was always good.” Hermione asserts, bathing in the feeling she gets from winning this time.

“Oh I’m sure.” Hermione’s impending gloating is cut off by Bellatrix’s expression. 

She hungered for a year but at no point had she ever considered Bellatrix did too. 

“Why didn’t you want to kill me?”

“I’ve killed many, I will kill many more. I refuse to be Vader’s to use, I refuse to kill for him anymore.” Bellatrix leans forward, dangerously close to death. “Plus, I saw myself in you. All that anger and pride, eager to please Vader.” She licks her lips and Hermione shivers. “So much untapped skill. You have the possibility to be so much, you’re saturated with power. It comes off of you in waves. They battered against me and the last thing I wanted to do was rob the galaxy of a presence like that.”

Hermione falters, her wants and expectations at war. Who she thought she was and who she is, all in flux. She isn’t sure of herself. “What did you want?”

“To drown in you.”

Hermione’s lightsaber goes out, the constant humming silenced. It’s just the fires raging around them, Bellatrix’s hut now a pyre, and their breathing. All the animals have wisely fled. Neither have looked away from the other. 

Hermione reaches down, offering Bellatrix her hand. Bellatrix takes it and stands, closer to Hermione than necessary. She doesn’t move away.

“What now?” 

Bellatrix takes Hermione’s lightsaber from her hand and she lets her, despite all her training saying an enemy has her weapon. Bellatrix clips it to her belt, hand resting on her hip. “We fight, together. Join the rebellion. You don’t have to be a jedi or a sith, you can be what you want. You can’t do that under imperial rule, they’ll kill you and everyone like you.”

Hermione looks towards the setting suns, twins lowering beneath the horizon. She feels a sense of peace wash over her for possibly the first time in her life. Bellatrix isn’t Vader, this isn’t some ship somewhere, and she has a choice. 

“I’m not wearing their uniforms.”

“Dreadful, aren’t they? Cissy has a great many feelings about them.”

She finds out when she’s later outfitted into non-sith robes that Narcissa is Bellatrix’s sister. 

She also finds out the rebellion is a lot more dangerous towards the empire than she’s been told. She wonders if the Emperor and Vader even realize. She starts working alongside Bellatrix and refuses to work with anyone else. If Bellatrix isn’t on mission with her, she doesn’t go. They work around it, realizing the boon of another force user. 

She doesn’t join the jedi, not even after she researches them. Not even when she meets Luke Skywalker. She remains unaligned, grey. 

“You’re supposed to be practicing meditation, not ogling Bellatrix.” Narcissa critiques her much to Andromeda’s delight. Bellatrix looks over, eyes flashing violet, with nothing short of smugness. 

“I can do both.” Hermione replies easily, closing her eyes dramatically. She feels Bellatrix walk closer and cracks an eye. “I can’t do both if you do whatever it is you’re planning.” 

“Me? What makes you think I’m doing anything?” Bellatrix’s asks innocently but quickly proves herself wrong when she all but tackles Hermione to the floor. She reaches for Hermione’s lightsaber and takes it off. “Aha!” She moves to back away but her robes get caught on Hermione’s synthetic hand. 

“If you yank a piece loose again, I’ll murder you after all.” Hermione threatens.

“Mm, promises promises. You know, you’d get a good sized bounty for my head. I promise you though-” Bellatrix’s hand presses into her abdomen, Hermione’s back flat against the ground. She lowers her mouth to Hermione’s ear. “I’m worth much more alive.” Her force presence flares and Hermione takes in a breath at the sensation. Bellatrix said she was enticed by Hermione’s presence in the force and Hermione feels the same towards her. It has an addictive quality, a burn that Hermione can’t help but touch. 

“Kriffing hell, just break the piece and get off.” Hermione grumbles, making Bellatrix laugh. 

Bellatrix reaches up and carefully untangles the material. She presses a kiss to the cool metal and sets Hermione’s arm down. “Where’s the fun in breaking you in front of company, pet?”

Hermione feels like half of their relationship is Hermione bearing the other woman’s teasing. It gets better after Hoth, at least Bellatrix has the decency to follow through on her threats. 

“Why’d you let yourself be known?” Hermione asks one day while she looks over a holo.

“I heard a rumor that a sith let an outpost live. I knew neither Darth Vader nor the Emperor would let them live, I’d hoped it was you.” Bellatrix tells her, sitting beside her.

“What if it wasn’t?” 

“I suppose I either would have died or gone running.” Bellatrix replies easily, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and taking her attention away from the holo. 

Hermione brushes a stray hair back, fingers tracing Bellatrix’s cheekbones. “Why would you risk it? You didn’t know me, I tried to kill you.”

“I wanted to know you. Something in you called to me, I’d be a fool not to listen. Plus, everyone I know has tried to kill me.” Hermione hears the pilot huff a laugh and agree underneath his breath. “I won all his money during Pazaak.” Bellatrix laughs and Hermione smiles, looking away. “You don’t need to hide your happiness, pet. Not here.” Bellatrix assures her, her palm cradling Hermione’s cheek. 

Somehow, these small touches mean more to Hermione than she’d ever thought to expect. She’s never been touched with care or love. Vader’s touch was only ever to inflict pain and no trooper was stupid enough to lay a hand on her. She thought she wanted to kill Bellatrix but now it couldn’t be farther from what she wants.

“Teach me Pazaak?” Hermione says instead of what she’s thinking. She doesn’t want to be that vulnerable where the pilot can hear. Bellatrix must see some hint of it because she lightly kisses her, enough to show her affection but not make Hermione uncomfortable. Sometimes, there’s only so much affection Hermione can take without being overwhelmed. 

It’s near the end, before they finally overthrow the empire, that she sees him. 

She sees a familiar frown and she walks towards him before she has time to evaluate it. It unnerves the rebels, some shooting her looks or flinching. Their guard goes up. They’re used to her shadowing Bellatrix and remaining silent. She’s an ally to them, one who can destroy imperial regiments, but not a friend. 

“Talus.” He turns toward her, taking her in.

“Kid. I heard rumors we had another run away sith. I thought maybe it was you but...” 

“That’s not how I’d categorize myself but it’s not inaccurate.”

“How would you categorize yourself?” He asks, shifting to take weight off his bad leg.

“On the long road.”

He laughs, it sounds odd coming from him. It sounds like it’s something he used to do all the time but doesn’t remember anymore. “You’re still young. You’ve still got a lot of time to make up for your wrongs. You’re in a better place than us. I don’t have much time to fix my mistakes.”

She smiles at him, moving to stand beside him. He doesn’t flinch. “I think you’ve already begun to make up for your mistakes, Talus. You’ll live yet, a life made better by your sacrifices.”

“My hope is that my grandchildren are free from this, at least.”

“Then we make the galaxy a better place.”

He really smiles then, a little bit awestruck. “What’s your name?”

“Hermione.”

“Glad the rebellion has people like you with us.”

Her eyes meet Bellatrix’s. Hermione’s glad she lost that duel after all.


End file.
